


Walk Me Home in the Dead of Night

by LizardLinzo



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Lots of Angst, Smut, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 01:03:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20144983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizardLinzo/pseuds/LizardLinzo
Summary: “If I don’t make it back, take care of her” He would say before each mission. Steve’s response was always the same;“I won’t need to, because you’re coming back whether you want to or not.”And he always did. He always came back.Until he didn’t.And now here Steve was, racking his brain trying to figure out how to save someone who would rather drown.





	Walk Me Home in the Dead of Night

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Hi! Welcome to my first (published) fanfic! (:  
This is a concept I know has been done before, but Endgame gave me all kinds of emotions so here's the result.
> 
> I'm so so sorry if there are mistakes. I originally wrote this from an OC perspective so I had to do a lot of changing to make it reader friendly. That said,I tried to edit the best I could but there are probably going to be slips in the tenses of words. I’ll continue to edit as I find them (: 
> 
> Very (very) loosely inspired by Walk Me Home by P!nk because that song gives me a whole lot of Steve Rogers/Reader feels. 
> 
> Enjoy!

It had been a year and the sting in your heart was still there, constantly, as harsh as the day he left. The images still flashed through your mind on a constant loop; one minute he’s there walking towards you, the next he’s collapsing into himself, never even hitting the ground.

“Bucky?!” You screamed, frantically pawing at the ground where his weapon had dropped. Searching for something- anything- to prove that he was there. 

And there was nothing.

You felt like a broken record, trying to desperately get the scene out of her head. You drank. A lot. You took any and all pills you could scavenge. Anything to numb the constant, chronic pain.

Nothing worked. 

Nothing ever worked.

You refused to sleep in your room. Your room that you shared together. The memories were too strong, his scent was still on the sheets you couldn’t bear to wash. You couldn’t lose the last connection you had to him, but you couldn’t stand the flood of grief that overtook you every time you so much as walked past the door. 

You slept on the couch most nights. The car others. Sometimes a motel. Some nights you couldn’t sleep at all. Whether it was the grief or the drugs, you’ll never knew. Probably a mixture of both.

Steve noticed. He was doing his best to keep everyone afloat in this storm. He had to. He didn’t have the capacity to lose anyone else. He saw you spiraling, circling the drain. He didn’t know what to do, how to approach it. How to just make the pain go away for two seconds.

You were passed out on the couch, the bottle of booze still in your hand. You had gone on a binger - again - and fell asleep wherever your body landed. Steve was surprised you made it to a surface that wasn’t the floor. 

“Y/N” he said, shaking your sleeping body on the couch. You were out cold, so heavily intoxicated it was doubtful that you were even dreaming. You preferred it that way. Any and all dreams were about your soldier.

Steve furrowed his brow and sighed. He knew this wasn’t what Bucky would have wanted for you.

“If I don’t make it back, take care of her” He would say before each mission. Steve’s response was always the same;

“I won’t need to, because you’re coming back whether you want to or not.”

And he always did. He always came back.

Until he didn’t.

And now here Steve was, racking his brain trying to figure out how to save someone who would rather drown.

He picked you up off the couch, your hair a tangled mess in your face. Steve knew you avoided your own room at every cost, so he carried you to his and set you gingerly on his bed.

You stirred, but ultimately succumbed once more to your substance induced slumber.

He turned off the lights and left, letting you be. Walking back to the common area Steve sat down on the couch, running his hands down his face. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep it together, keep the rest of the team going. If he was honest with himself, he was holding on by a very, very thin string. But he had to be strong; he had no other choice. 

Steve was pulled from his thoughts when he heard clattering in the direction of his room. Y/N’s finally awake, he thought to himself. He took a deep breath and composed himself before making his way to his room to help you nurse your hangover.

“Y/N?” He knocked, not wanting to barge in and startle you. After a few moments of silence, he opened the door. His bed was empty, no longer occupied by your drunken body. He immediately turned toward his bathroom, figuring you were either freshening up or puking the contents of your stomach from the night before. He knocked again, not wanting to just burst through and see what wasn’t meant for his eyes. 

Again, silence.

“Y/N, it’s Steve. Open up.” He jiggled the handle only to find it locked.

His stomach dropped.

“Y/N? Y/N open the door.” He pounded on it a few more times and was met with nothing. “Open the damn door Y/N or I’ll kick it down.”

Silence.

Steve stood back before kicking in the door. In front of him was you, hardly conscious, laying on the bathroom floor. Frantically he scanned the room and found an empty prescription bottle. He didn’t bother checking what the contents were before he ran over to you. 

“Shit” he muttered as he pulled you up over the toilet. “You can be mad at me later, but you can’t be mad if you’re dead.” Quickly, he shoved his fingers down your throat, forcing vomit to erupt from your belly. 

You coughed as you continued to puke, the pills you had consumed no longer metabolizing. Tears ran down your face, both from the sting of the acid in your throat and the realization of what you had done.

Steve held you steady over the toilet bowl, your hair wrapped in his hand and out of your face.

“I’m sorry” you managed to croak out once you had not even bile left to offer the toilet below you. Hot, thick tears continued to flow. “I’m so, so sorry Steve.” you gasped struggling to breathe through your sobs.

Steve just held you, pulling your back into his chest while you both sat on the bathroom floor. His arms were wrapped around your shoulders as he buried his face in your hair. Even in the condition you were in, your hair still smelled of vanilla and lavender and so distinctly you. 

He felt tears sting the back of his throat threatening to fall, but he swallowed them down thickly. “It’s okay” he whispered to you.

It wasn’t okay. Nothing about the moment they were in was okay. You should have been smiling, your laughter filling the compound. Bucky should be the one wrapped up in you, not Steve. Steve should be making jokes with his best friend and leading his team on missions to ensure the safety of the world.

But instead they found themselves in a broken mess of the world they tried so, so hard to protect. 

“C’mon” Steve said as he stood up, pulling you to your feet with him. “We need to get you to medical. Get you checked out, make sure you’re okay.”

You nodded and followed Steve. You had no energy to argue, although all you truly wanted was to lie down for days and not move.

————

You were discharged from the medbay after a 72 hour observation period to ensure your safety. You hadn’t seen Steve since your discharge, and that brought both a wave of relief and a twinge of pain. You had no idea what you would say to him once you two ultimately crossed paths again. On top of that, the fact that he hadn’t even came to visit while you were in the medbay, hurt. It hurt more than you cared to admit.

Steve was in the gym, punching his frustration away. It never truly, fully, went away, but it gave him something to focus on instead of the sight of you hardly conscious, laying on the bathroom floor. The memory haunted him and he felt bile rise to the back of his throat each time it came to mind.

He almost let more die.

He almost let you die. 

Of course Steve blamed himself- he blamed himself for everything. The Avengers crumbling, the decimation, even you. All these things Steve carried on his back as his responsibility and he felt like he couldn’t breathe but he couldn’t crack. He was the glue holding everyone together and goddammit he had to keep it together. 

So he punched and punched and punched until he felt like he wasn’t going to break anymore. 

You found him, sweat soaking through his white shirt. Your heart stuttered. What were you going to say? Would he even want to see you? You did try to off yourself in his bathroom. You shook your head, deciding to wing it rather than over think.

“Hey” you said, walking towards the super soldier. Your arms were crossed in front of you, as if to create a barrier between you and him.

Steve stopped punching and turned to you. His breath caught in his throat. He didn’t know what to say, and judging by the silence hanging thick in the air, neither did you.

“Hey.” He finally responded. “How’re you feeling?” He wiped the sweat dripping from his forehead into his eyes with the bottom of his shirt.

You gave a soft smile in response. Bucky would do the exact same thing after each training session. The small mannerism sent a tear straight to the corner of your eye. You brushed it away quickly, hoping Steve wouldn’t notice.

He did. He noticed everything.

“I’m doing better” you responded. And you were, kind of. At least, in that moment, you didn’t feel like drinking until you couldn’t see straight, so that was a plus. You fidgeted with your hands, trying to string together an apology. “I wanted to say I’m sorry. For the other night. I wasn’t in my right mind and-“

“Don’t mention it. It’s fine, really.” Steve cut you off. It was clear he didn’t want to talk about it and shut it down before it began. You nodded. 

“Okay. Yeah, thanks” you muttered. Turning on your heel you left the gym as fast as you could, embarrassed that you even confronted him in the first place.

Steve continued punching.

You two saw each other minimally the following days. You were convinced Steve was avoiding you. Either that, or you were just hyper aware now that you were actually sober for once. Both were true.

When you did cross paths, Steve kept it short. A quick “hi, how you doing?” And moving on before you really had a chance to respond. That was it. He was keeping his distance. Out of fear? Shame? Guilt? Anger? 

Yes.

It ate you up inside. You wanted to hug him, cry into him, tell him how sorry you were that you put him through that. More importantly, you wanted the loneliness to go away.

Since the decimation, you and Steve had grown close. Natasha had her own demons to face and dealt with them outside of you, leaving you to navigate this new world alone. Until Steve stepped in and helped you pick up the pieces of your shattered life.

Maybe that’s why Steve took it so hard when you began to spiral. He thought you were making progress. That with his help, you were finally beginning to see a future for yourself.

And then you slowly began to unravel.

Steve couldn’t be sure what finally did it, but he was fairly certain it was the day of your and Bucky’s anniversary. The day you finally went into your room, wrapped yourself in blankets and cried into his pillow. The only thing you consumed that day was a bottle of vodka and some sleeping pills in a desperate attempt to chase the pain away.

And that was the beginning of the end.

Steve felt you slipping through his fingers. He tried so desperately to hold on but it was like grasping water. You continued to circle the drain until the night you tried to end it all.

And there wasn’t a goddamn thing Steve could do.

His heart hurt. He avoided you because he couldn’t face you. He failed you like he did everyone else, and he wasn’t able to look you in the eyes just yet.

Steve sat on the edge of his bed, head in his hands as he tried to organize the jumbled mess of thoughts in his brain. Caught up in his brooding, he didn’t hear the soft knock on his door, or the click as it opened.

“Hey Steve.” 

Your voice used to be strong, commanding, a force to be reckoned with. You could lead a mission and take control of the battle field without a second thought. Now it was soft, meek, timid, flat out scared. You sounded like a completely different person, and it’s something Steve never did grow accustomed to.

Steve looked up, the bags under his eyes evidence of his lack of sleep. He gave a weak smile, making eye contact with you for the first time in days. 

“Hey” was all he said back.

“Can I come in?” You stood at the door, not wanting to intrude. Steve nodded so faintly that you might have missed if if your eyes weren’t locked onto his. Slowly, you walked inside, closing the door behind you. You approached the bed, hesitant. Your arms were crossed in front of you, trying again to create a physical barrier.

“How’re you feeling?” He was on autopilot, now trying to avoid your gaze once more. You took in a deep breath before answering, trying to keep your tone flat and even.

“Not good.” You looked down, chuckling to yourself humorlessly. “I’m really struggling, Stevie.” 

Stevie. You adopted the nickname when you two began growing close. It warmed Steve’s chest and he almost cracked a small smile.

“My therapist told me that when the thoughts get dark that I needed to reach out to friends for help. And...” you shifted your weight. “Well, you’re my only friend right now, Steve.”

He looked up to you as you spoke. His heart was aching. He didn’t know what to do. He wanted to be there, he tried to be. He tried so fucking hard to be there for you and he failed. And even now, though he was trying his absolute hardest to put distance between you two, all he wanted to do was wrap you up in his arms and tell you it was going to be okay.

“I just-“ you fiddled with your fingers, not sure what you wanted to accomplish. You just knew that where your thoughts were was a place you couldn’t be. You didn’t want to go spiraling again. You couldn’t go spiraling again. 

“I can’t be alone, Stevie. Please?” The desperation in your wavering voice was enough to kill the super soldier where he sat. 

He nodded before standing up, walking closer to you until he was in your space. He wrapped his arms around you, slowly. You melted into his embrace, your face smashing into his chest. Small sobs escaped your mouth and Steve held you tighter. 

“I’m here. I won’t leave you alone, I promise.” He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. 

“I miss him so much” you managed between sobs. “I miss him so much it hurts.” You squeezed him as hard as you could, refusing to let him go. Steve didn’t notice as the top of your head began collecting tears. His tears.

“I know Y/N. I miss him too.”

You two stayed like that for what felt like forever, silently crying into each other. It was the emotional release Steve needed and the connection you craved. In that moment, you weren’t alone anymore. Neither of you were.

You were the first to pull away, wiping your eyes and nose with the back of your sleeve. 

Steve looked at you- really looked at you. Eyes red and puffy, bright red nose, and a soft smile looking up at him. You never showed this side of you to anyone aside from Bucky. Everyone knew the fighter, the agent. But Bucky? He knew you for who you truly were; the soft, emotional, tender soul you hid underneath the rough and gruff. And right then, in that moment, you were showing your true self to Steve as well.

And fuck, you were beautiful. 

You two stared at each other. No one attempted to talk, you just took each other in. Your grip on Steve’s midsection loosened, your hands sliding up the front of his chest. 

Heat rose in Steve’s face at your touch. He closed his eyes, not stopping your hands as they wandered his body. Your touch was soft, delicate, warm. He knew he should stop, tell you no. You were Bucky’s and you would never be his.

You felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest. You stepped closer to Steve, your bodies impossibly close. Acting on impulse, you lifted herself on your toes, your lips grazing his neck. Blonde stubble brushed your nose and it reminded you of your soldiers whiskered kisses.

Steve inhaled sharply before pulling away. 

“I’m sorry-“ you took a step back as shame and embarrassment washed over you. “I didn’t mean anything- I -“ you were a rambling mess, not sure what you were trying to say. You backed away towards the door before turning on your heel to leave.

A hand caught yours, spinning you around. Steve’s lips crashed into yours, hungry and desperate. You were responsive, your fingers threading through his hair pulling him closer, your tongue begging for entrance to his mouth.

He obliged, opening his mouth and welcoming the warmth of your tongue. You groaned into his mouth, the sound and vibration shooting straight to his cock.

A sudden wave of realization swept over Steve and he pulled back. “Y/N-“ he took a moment to catch his breath. “Do-?” He wanted to ask if this was what you wanted. He knew you still loved Bucky, and that he wasn’t going to change that. But for a night, he could ease the pain just a little bit. And God, did he want to. He wanted to kiss you, hold you, touch you, anything to let you know you weren’t alone and that you were going to be okay.

“Yes” you responded before Steve could choke out the rest of the question. “I want this. I want to forget about him for just one night. Please. Please help me forget.” 

Steve wasted no time capturing your mouth again, pulling you as close as he could. His hands roamed your body; in your hair, up and down your back, all the way down to your perfectly sculpted ass.

You rolled your head back and moaned out loud. Steve moved down your throat, nipping as he went. You felt your underwear begin to dampen. You grabbed his face, resting your forehead on his.

“I don’t want to think of anyone but you tonight” you whispered. “Take me, Steve. Make me yours, please.”

Your words spurred him on as he picked you up and laid you on the bed. He kissed down your neck until he got to your breasts. In one fluid motion he removed your shirt, revealing perfectly round tits that bounced as your chest rose up and down with each breath.

“Oh my God” Steve whispered to himself as he took in the sight before him. Your face was flush and beads of sweat were forming on your chest. You raised your hands above your head, revealing your entire body to him. You were so vulnerable like this, Steve thought. You were bearing your soul to him, just him.

Steve leaned down, kissing your stomach. He left a trail of kisses down to the waistband of your sweats where he gave a gentle tug. 

“Do you want me to?” He asked, his breath warm against your abdomen.

“Yes, please” you begged, arching your body trying to get a closer touch.

Steve slid your sweats and underwear off and his breath caught in his throat. You were completely bare underneath him. He had imagined this moment more times than he was proud of, even when Bucky was still around, and he hated himself for it.

He leaned down and licked a broad, agonizingly slow stripe up the length of your folds. You were so fucking wet, and it was all for him.

You gasped as his mouth found your nub. He promptly sucked it in his mouth, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. You bucked your hips begging, pleading, for more contact. 

Steve took the hint, sliding two fingers into your center. 

“Oh fuck” you gasped. “Yes Steve that feels so good.” 

He began to pump his fingers in and out, slowly at first but quickly picking up speed. Your moans and groans only spurred him on as he added another finger. 

The sweet sting of Steve’s fingers stretching you was down right euphoric.

The strain in Steve’s pants was becoming borderline painful, but his fingers were relentless and weren’t going to stop until you coated them in your sweet cum.

He let go of your clit and looked up. Your head was thrown back, your chest heaving as you tried to gain some sense of control over your breathing. Beads of sweat rolled off your breasts and another groan was torn from your throat.

“Cum for me, sweetheart, please” Steve whispered as he continued to fuck you with his fingers. It didn’t take much longer before he felt your walls clench around him and a gush, Steve’s name echoing through the room.

Without hesitation he withdrew his fingers and replaced them with his mouth, greedily drinking your orgasm.

“Fuck Steve, stop-“ you jerked away and Steve immediately pulled back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. You pulled your legs to your chest as you sat up, a clear sign you were trying to hide.

You were retreating behind your walls, and Steve cursed at himself for letting things go this far.

“Y/N I’m- I’m so sorry.” He took a few deep breaths, calming down his heart that threatened to explode. “I should have stopped sooner, I’m-“

“No, no it’s not like that Steve- I -“ you cut him off, and looked away. “I don’t know, I feel guilty. Like we shouldn’t be doing this, like I’m betraying him.” Steve nodded in understanding and sat next to you. “But I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t feel this way. The dead don’t want, the dead can’t feel.” 

“And what do you want?” Steve asked. 

You looked up at him, his blue green eyes so captivating you could hardly form a coherent sentence.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him deeply. “I want you,” you whispered against his ear, your breath shaky as you continued to come down from your climax.

Steve broke away from you, removing his shirt and pants as swiftly as he could. You marveled at his body before pulling him back down on top of you. 

His kisses were hungry but tame. Even at his most aggressive he was still gentle compared to Bucky who was rough, confident, and brash.

You pushed the thought out of your head. You didn’t want to think of Bucky or compare his best friend to him in bed. 

“Fuck me,” you moaned, desperate to be filled with Steve and only Steve. “Please, please fuck me. Make me forget.”

“Are you sure you want this?” He needed to be sure. He couldn’t be a mistake, his heart wouldn’t be able to handle that.

“Yes” you gasped as his teeth grazed your neck. “Yes, fuck, I need you. I need all of you.” 

Steve nestled himself between your legs, his cock teasing your slick entrance. Slowly, he slid inside, completely sheathing himself within you. The groan that came from the back of his throat was deliciously primal.

“Oh my God, Y/N” he moaned, leaning down to devour your lips. “You feel so damn good.”

He gave you time to adjust to his size. He was longer than Bucky, but not as thick. It was a starkly different sensation as he began to thrust in and out, setting a slow, steady pace. He leaned down, his arms resting on either side of your head effectively caging you in. His head dropped and he kissed your neck. 

“You feel so good, so wet” he whispered.

“Oh yes- oh fuck yes Steve- don’t stop-“ you gasped feeling your second orgasm building up.

With one hand, Steve began rubbing your clit, pushing you even faster to the edge.

“You gonna cum for me?” His voice was lower than it had been, his hips beginning to stutter with his own impending climax creeping up on him.

“Yes Yes YES” you cried as you clenched around Steve’s cock, your orgasm sending waves of pleasure throughout your body. Your climax triggered his own as he gave one final thrust. 

“Y/N- fuck” he moaned, pulling out quickly. Hot, thick ropes of cum painted your tummy which Steve admired fondly.

You laid there for a few moments, Steve’s forehead resting on yours. Your breaths ragged as you tried to regain composure.

Steve slid out and retreated to his bathroom, collecting a warm washcloth to clean you up before collapsing next to you. He pulled you close, your head resting on his chest.

You didn’t object, wrapping your arm around his midsection. You nuzzled your face into his sweat slicked chest, relishing in his scent.

“Stay with me tonight” Steve said, planting a chaste kiss on top of your head. It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. You nodded lazily, before sleep swept over you. 

————

Your arrangement went on for 4 more years. It wasn’t every night. It wasn’t even every week or month. It was when you needed each other most.

Sometimes when you couldn’t escape the absolute hell that was your thoughts and the sweet notion of suicide beckoned to you, you would find yourself in Steve’s bed. Never your own.

Other times when Steve felt he was on the brink, when the pressure of the world was crushing him, he would go to you. His hands would snake around your waist as he peppered kisses up and down your neck.

Some nights you would cry out Bucky’s name as you came, sometimes you said nothing at all. Steve was never angry; he knew what this arrangement was and he was happy with that. You were helping each other heal, at least that’s what he told himself.

When Scott Lang showed up at the front door of the compound, everything changed.

You were running your anger away on a treadmill in the gym, music blasting in your headphones. 

You were still angry because of course you were. It had been 5 years. You had managed to stay sober for the last 3.5, and found that exercise was a great way to let loose those emotions you would otherwise numb.

You still missed him. Even with your and Steve’s agreement, you missed Bucky more than you could stand. You were able to cope a bit better, although you weren’t sure sleeping with his best friend was the epitome of healthy coping skills.

You didn’t notice Steve had walked into the gym until he was in front of you. The look on his face was... puzzling. Quickly, you turned off your machine and removed your headphones.

“Hey” you said, your breath heavy as you wiped the sweat from your forehead. “You okay?” Something was off, and you could tell. At this point you could read Steve like a book.

Steve took a deep breath before giving you a faint smile. 

“We have a shot at fixing it. All of it.”

You would have sworn you had been punched in the gut, all color leaving your face. 

“We can bring them back, Y/N. We can bring him back.”

Before you could stop yourself, your hand made contact with Steve’s face, hard enough to whip his neck to the side. A red angry mark formed immediately.

“Don’t. Don’t do this. Don’t make me get my hopes up for nothing, Steve.” Your voice stayed steady even as tears flowed freely down your cheeks. “We thought we could do it before and we couldn’t.” 

Steve didn’t flinch. He understood completely.

“Lang has a way. We can do it this time.” He put his hands on your shoulders. “We’ll bring him back. I promise.”

“Please” was all you could manage. Please don’t get my hopes up. Please don’t fail. Please bring him home.

There were no more late night visits. No more nights of ecstasy and sin. Everything stopped when their plan was set in motion.


End file.
